Shadowfeet
by SpaceCowboi
Summary: Dean traveled to a seminary in the Vatican to study exorcism and met a quirky young Italian priest, both with strange histories. Will they overcome their differences, or will they allow blind faith to stand in their way...? AU Destiel, eventual slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Shadowfeet**

_Hello again everyone! Here's another Destiel that I've been writing for quite some time…it's my baby~ And I know, it's really long….and I originally planned to submit the whole thing as a one-shot, but I just kept writing and writing, and then I added a semi-epilogue/third part to it and was all like FINE. So yeah, submitting the first part and then the subsequent chapters later on. _

_If the beginning sounds familiar, it's because I started to make this like a Supernatural version of The Rite. I started writing this right after I watched that awesome movie and was all like, damn, I wanna make a Destiel out of that (I think that about a lot of movies...lol). So yeah, the premise is rather similar till it quite obviously branches off (no, there will be no exorcisms in here…)._

_And as a forewarning, I know nothing of the Catholic Church beside what I've seen and read, I'm not even Christian, so forgive me if certain parts are incorrect or just seem to be lacking. That's why. Feel free to correct me, I'll be sure to take a look and possible correct whatever it is you point out (unless of course if it's detrimental to the development of the plot)._

_Song I listened to while writing this was Shadowfeet by Brooke Fraser~ Awesome song, and it set this whole vibe for me, so yeah, listen if you want!_

_Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are my own.  
><em>

_Anywho, rambled long enough…Enjoy! :)  
><em>

* * *

><p>If there was one thing that Dean Winchester hated the most, it was the pious bastards that assumed he didn't believe in God due to his rather…<em>realistic<em> take on exorcism. Did he believe in God? Yes. Did he believe in demons? Hell yeah. But did he believe that the common man had the power to deduce whether a person had been possessed by one of the fiery beasts? No.

Which was why he was here.

He still hadn't taken his final tests or vows. He wasn't a priest yet, but he was pretty damn close, close enough for some people it seemed. He might be pretty religious, but he was still a skeptic about the whole _possession_ thing. How was an ordinary man like himself able to tell if some poor guy was acting the way he was not out of insanity but out of impulse from some unholy creature?

The people sitting around him didn't seem that all that concerned over the _people_, just expelling the demon to the hell from whence it came. Not concerned over the fact that a lot of these _exorcisms_ resulted in injury, and sometimes death, of the possessed.

"And who exactly are you?"

The priest conducting the lecture stopped close to Dean's row, obviously referring to the unwashed, unshaven American in their midst.

"Oh, uh, Dean Winchester, from-"

"Oh yes, the _American_."

"Yes, sorry for being late, my flight was delayed…"

"I don't really care what excuse you have, just be sure it doesn't happen again, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

'_Great_,' Dean thought, glancing around at all the sour looks he was receiving, '_I'm the dirty American now.' _

One glance, however, stood out from the rest. A younger looking priest, but yet still older than Dean, with startling blue eyes and short dark hair, made even darker by his black cassock. He regarded the scene with a soft, vacant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The man noticed Dean's returned gaze and that smile grew wider, pinching the corners of his eyes. Now that was a real smile. He nodded once before turning his eyes and attention back to the lecture. Dean did the same, and before he knew it, the lecture was over and that same priest from earlier was standing in front of him expectantly.

"So, you are American?" He started in a heavily accented, deeply hoarse voice. Dean, too startled by that voice didn't reply, causing the priest to shuffle awkwardly.

"Ah, forgive me, I couldn't help but be curious. I apologize for father Uriel's rudeness; he was mocking you, no?"

"Oh, uh, no, he wasn't mocking me, I really am American…though I guess he could have said it a little nicer…"

The priest laughed, a wonderfully rich sound, before extending his hand.

"Welcome to the Vatican, American, you may call me Castiel."

"Ha, thanks Castiel, you can call me Dean."

They shook hands, Dean stood and they both walked from the building into the blinding sunlight.

"He means well," Castiel began, "Father Uriel. He may seem crude, but he is a rather nice man."

"Coulda fooled me. Seems like a real charmer." Dean commented dryly, earning a small chuckle from the shorter priest.

"Give him time, I'm sure he'll warm up to you."

They trailed off into a comfortable silence, reaching the center courtyard. Dean took his time walking, hoping Castiel didn't mind. Dean had never seen such beautiful architecture before, and he planned on soaking it all in before returning to his dull little church house in Kansas.

"It's beautiful, no?" Castiel asked, sitting on a nearby bench and Dean sat as well.

"It sure is…Way different than what I'm used to."

"The Vatican has always been a source of such beauty to me. It is fitting that outwardly it should match those sentiments."

"Yeah…"

"Padre Castiel!" Someone called from across the courtyard.

"Padre Uriel, che cosa?"

The older priest jogged up to Castiel and launched into a hurried tirade with lightening quick Italian, eyes darting furtively in Dean's direction, and Dean noticed his hand was slowly digging harder and harder into Castiel's shoulder. He was also jabbing his finger into Castiel's chest, seeming to tower over the shorter man. Whatever he said clearly angered the younger priest, for his reply was scathing and harsh, and if at all possible, faster than Uriel's hurried cadence. Dean could work his way through an elementary Italian conversation, and had at one point been proud of the amount of the language he had mastered in such a short time. But this conversation truly humbled those thoughts.

"Dean." Castiel broke free of Uriel's grasp, quickly grabbing Dean's arm and dragging him off the bench and away from the stunned Uriel without so much as an explanation.

"Castiel! Vieni qui!"

Castiel shouted something behind his back with a dismissive wave of his hand before releasing Dean's arm, clearly expecting him to follow.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked as he picked up his pace to follow close to the irate priest. Castiel's answering smile was the small one he saw earlier, it was empty.

"Nothing, do not worry yourself. Do you want to go get a drink? Not that American McDonalds coffee shit, real espresso."

Castiel was clearly avoiding whatever was said, which was obviously an argument about him if he dare say so himself, but Dean wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And he definitely wasn't going to skip the prospect of some much needed caffeine.

"Sure, Cas. I think I need it."

* * *

><p>Dean soon learned that Castiel, <em>Cas<em> as he's come to call him, got extremely loopy when full of tasty espresso. At several points in their conversation (honestly Dean didn't even know what they were talking about at the moment) Cas would lapse into Italian, talking animatedly, not even noticing Dean's amusingly confused expression. All Dean had to do was smile and nod in the pauses and Cas would continue.

Dean cleared his throat and looked at his watch; it was two minutes till their next lecture. Castiel saw the movement and sobered up a little, "I guess we should start heading back, don't want you to be late twice in a row." He grabbed his last cup of espresso and threw it back like a shot of tequila before standing and waiting on Dean, not commenting on his amused expression.

* * *

><p>Their next lecture was given by a younger nun, her name was Anna, and apparently had known Castiel for quite some time. Their slight tardiness hardly fazed her, and didn't even stop to speak to the two gasping men as they took their seats in the back. Uriel was there and made sure to give Dean the darkest glare he could muster, but one cursory glance from Castiel made him turn back around.<p>

At the end Dean hung back and gave Castiel some space to speak with Anna, which was when he was pulled to the side by Uriel.

"Look, Winchester, I don't particularly like the effect you have on Castiel, and would greatly appreciate it if you left him alone from now on. He doesn't need distractions like you, especially not now."

"I don't really know what you're talking about. Castiel seems like a nice guy, a _grown_ guy. I'm sure he can handle things himself."

"Castiel is in the right position with the right people at this moment. If anything happens to him to change that he'll miss his chance!"

"Chance at what?"

"Father Uriel! I know you're not speaking to another man of faith under this roof with that tone of voice." Anna admonished, coming to stand next to Dean. Uriel began to say something in Italian, _'again with the Italian_,' but Anna raised her hand to silence him.

"Please father, you know I do not speak Italian as fluently as you. I'm sure anything you wish to say to me can be voiced as eloquently in English as any other language." She raised her eyebrows at him, and Dean got the distinct feeling that he had started something rather disturbing. Like a turf war over who gets Castiel and who gets the consolation prize.

'_So far,_' Dean thought, taking in Castiel's affronted look at Uriel as well as Anna's calm but alert manner, '_I'd say Anna is winning by a long shot._'

* * *

><p>"So where are you staying, Dean?" Castiel asked as they once more walked from the building into the courtyard. "Don't tell me those horrible travelers' rooms; they are never in good condition."<p>

"I'm afraid so." Dean replied warily, wondering if that last statement was supposed to be some sort of joke.

"Hmm," Castiel frowned, "that is no good. You should come stay with us."

"Us?"

"Yes, my brother and I. Do not worry, he won't mind you being there at all."

"Are you sure? I don't mean to impose…"

"No, it's no imposition at all! Besides, you'll need to get out of the Vatican sooner or later, you'll go mad if you stare at the same buildings day in and out, trust me."

"If you say so."

"Good, then its settled." Castiel smiled that winning smile of his again, and Dean found it extremely difficult to look away that time.

* * *

><p>It turned out that Balthazar, Castiel's half-brother, had an old villa in Rome not far from the outskirts of the Vatican, close but not too close. A perfect, healthy distance as Balthazar described it. Balthazar was well off, according to Castiel, and their surroundings proved that rather nicely.<p>

And the more time Dean spent with Balthazar the more he learned that he was a filthy rich British bastard that didn't really care _what_ Castiel did, just as long as he stayed out of his way and out of his sight. Especially when guests were over, as if he was _ashamed_ of Castiel. Dean couldn't fathom how anyone could treat Castiel like that. In Dean's eyes Castiel was a saint, though at this point he had only known him for about a month or so, but they had become inseparable.

"So you are a seminarian, Dean?" Balthazar began during one of the few dinners the brothers shared.

"Sort of…I'm still not quite sure where I stand at this point in time."

"Ah."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dean had already told Castiel where he stood on the issue, and he had accepted that fact. But Castiel apparently saw something in Dean that he simply did not. The faith and the love required to complete his vows and become a priest.

"Strange to have come so far and yet you have stalled," Balthazar commented flippantly, pouring himself another glass of some obscure vintage wine. "You must have some reason for starting _the journey_ to begin with."

Dean didn't like the way Balthazar labeled his quest for his faith, and apparently neither did Castiel if his clenched fists were any indication.

"My family was extremely religious. There really wasn't any other option. I was practically raised in the church, I was never far from God, but I'm afraid certain…events in my life are holding me back." Dean answered, becoming quite interested in his excellent chicken cacciatore. Balthazar hummed while taking a liberal sip of wine.

"Such as?"

Castiel cleared his throat loudly.

"I'd rather not say." Dean responded tartly, giving his best all teeth smile that would put off even the most prying atheist.

Castiel took advantage of the strained silence to steal away with his nearly empty plate and glass.

"There's really no need for that, Cassie, I hire a kitchen staff for a reason." Balthazar called after him.

"I'd rather do it myself, thank you."

Dean stood as well, hurrying after Castiel before he lost sight of the black clothed man in the mazelike villa.

"Forgive my brother, sometimes I don't think he realizes how hurtful he is being." Castiel breathed, obviously trying to quell silent rage.

"You sure do ask me to forgive a lot of people on their account." Dean joked dryly, smirking a little at the slight smile sent his way.

"Sorry, habit."

'_Of course_,' Dean thought with a small amount of mirth, 'we _pray to God every day to forgive us our sins and the sins of others._'

"So what's his problem anyway, if you don't mind my asking?" Dean asked when they deposited their dishes in the kitchen.

"Who, Balthazar? He just doesn't see the worth of becoming a priest. Always thought I was rather foolish to pursue God's work, like our father."

"Your father?"

"Yes, he was a priest as well. He married my mother when she was pregnant from her previous engagement. Balthazar never really took to me. To him I was just a baby that happened to live under the same roof, born from a woman that also happened to live there as well. He held no love for me, and I grew to understand that, though it was painful to behold. He moved on to bigger things, became a CEO of some company in London, and I didn't see him again till about three years ago when he called asking for our father. When I told him that he had passed he moved here to be with me."

"And your mother?"

"She left, years and years ago. To this day I do not know where she went; every attempt of mine to reach her has been in vain."

"I'm…sorry to hear that…"

"It is of little import."

"Hey, my family is coming to visit in a few weeks, would you like to meet them?"

Dean would give anything to freeze that beautiful smile on Castiel's face at the mention of his family.

"I would love to!"

"Great! But they might be a little disappointed when they don't see a little halo over your head."

"Why is that?" Castiel asked, voice softening.

"The way I've described you, I'm sure they think you're some sort of angel."Dean replied, voice also dropping to a softer tone, though why he did not know.

"Hmm," Castiel hummed, the same smile staying on lips but something changed in the way he walked, something changed in the very air.

But Dean could tell it was a good change.

* * *

><p>"Dean!"<p>

"Sammy!"

The two brothers ran at each other and embraced tightly, laughing.

"Dude, it's been like, a million years! You look so sophisticated, that's not like you Dean." Sam grinned, stepping back and taking Dean by the shoulders.

"And you're still your gigantor self, still chugging milk and chomping on salads?"

"Ha ha, Dean, very funny. So is this father Castiel?" Sam gave his very best bitch face before turning to the shy priest standing behind Dean.

"Please, Sam, call me Castiel." He smiled, reaching out to shake Sam's offered hand. Sam grinned like a puppy with a bone, "Your name is very peculiar, you were named after the angel, right?"

"Ah, yes indeed, though most spell it Cassiel."

"Yeah, that's true."

Dean chuckled. "Nerds."

"Now Dean, that's not very nice."

"Mom!"

Castiel watched as a stunning older blond woman walked up to Dean and enveloped him in a warm embrace, kissing him on the cheek before he could escape.

"Father," she turned with the warmest smile Castiel had ever seen, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Thank you for taking such good care of Dean. I was worried to send him so far away but now I see I needn't have worried."

"Of course, of course, it was no trouble at all. Dean has become a much needed friend to me. Your son is a very clever young man, and makes these dry courses…quite worth the time." Castiel responded, liking the slight blush that crept up Dean's face.

"C'mon, Cas…" Dean groaned, and his mother laughed.

"Why don't you show us around? Sammy's been dying to see the sights."

"Of course the nerd wants to look around." Dean snickered, earning a punch on the shoulder from his younger brother.

"How about we start at the café I took you before?"Castiel suggested, already walking in its general direction.

"That sounds like a good idea."

* * *

><p>Sam and Cas got along like two peas in a pod, and Dean took the opportunity to hang back and get some quality time with his mother.<p>

"So, Dean, how do you like the Vatican? Are you enjoying any of your courses?"

"It's great mom, I think it's just what I needed."

"That's wonderful sweetie. If I remember your last call correctly, you've been staying with father Castiel and his brother, right? How has that been?"

"Well the villa is freaking huge, it's like we have the whole place to ourselves. His brother is…well he's a piece of work, that's for sure. Castiel's had some issues in the past, we fit together perfectly, you know, help each other out when it gets tough..."

"That's great, Dean. I'm glad you've made a friend. Honestly, after your first call I was scared you weren't going to fit in here at all…which is what I warned you about in the first place you know, I was worried people wouldn't like you just because you were an American…"

"Mom! I'm fine here, honestly! Cas is great, and even though his brother is an ass, he's not half bad himself."

Castiel shouted something back at Dean and he smiled.

"_And_ he's been helping me with Italian," he chuckled, walking faster to catch up.

After their short break at the café, Cas convinced Sam to put off sightseeing for the day. They had, after all, just got off a rather long flight, and the Vatican would still be standing the next day. And the next, God willing. Besides, Sam was interested in seeing Balthazar's villa.

Yes, Castiel already asked Balthazar if Dean's family could stay in the villa. As far as Balthazar was concerned, "the little rednecks can plunk their happy asses wherever they please."

Castiel wasn't particularly happy with that answer, but it was satisfactory. Dean didn't even want to understand the muttered string of Italian issued from Castiel after that exchange.

* * *

><p>The very next day saw them visiting almost every major landmark in Vatican City, as well as several key locations in surrounding Roma, pulled along by the overly enthusiastic Sam.<p>

He was like a kid at Christmas with his head stuck in a partially unfolded map as they walked to Castel Sant'Angelo, and Dean and Castiel chuckled over their shared analogy.

Castiel tried to tell Sam that a map was not necessary, that he knew Vatican City like the back of his hand, but the nerd wouldn't have it. He wanted to take _his_ tour _his_ way, and Castiel learned quickly it wasn't worth the energy to argue.

Dean chuckled at the scene.

"What?" Castiel smiled at Dean's peaceful expression.

"Sam, he always gets like this. I don't know why he's studying law. His passion lays in books and dusty museums…history, you know? Always been his thing."

"I can remember when Balthazar was like that. I remember a time where he almost considered priesthood."

Dean snorted derisively, taking a quick chug of water to fend off any more comments. Castiel laughed.

"Oh yes, believe it or not. He was so intrigued by religion, even going so far as to take several extraneous theology classes at university."

"What stopped him? From becoming a priest, I mean."

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment with an indescribable expression.

"_Vita_."

Dean left it at that, not particularly caring about delving into Balthazar's icky past, as he was sure it was.

"Dean, why don't you follow Sammy inside, I need to sit down for awhile," his mother said, sitting on a nearby bench and shooing her son after the practically jogging Sam.

"Father," she called before Castiel could follow, "would you mind sitting with me? We haven't had the chance to talk properly."

"Of course, Mrs. Winchester." Castiel smiled, sitting next to her, grateful for the rest. He wasn't as young as Sam, or Dean for that matter.

"Please, call me Mary. Besides, it's _Ms_. Winchester now." Mary smiled, and Castiel smiled back, squinting when a reflection from a passing car shot into his eyes.

"So, Mary, what would you like to know?"

She laughed a little, "You don't take your time with anything do you?"

Castiel smiled again, but his lips thinned.

"All I wanted to know was how Dean was doing, how he's _really_ doing. He's told me he goes to all of his lectures, takes notes and studies like a good student, but we both know that's not true." Her smile was playfully conspiring, as if she doubted everything her son had told her. For some inexplicable reason, that really pissed Castiel off. "Yes, I'm sure he runs off every day to go to bars, to fraternize with _loose women_, and ignore his calling. Doesn't he? That boy, I don't know what I'm going to do with him…if this fails, this whole transfer would be a waste of my-"

"Ms. Winchester," Castiel gritted out. She stopped her rant, startled at the normally soft spoken priest's sudden change in tone. "I don't know how Dean acted when he was home in America, nor do I want to know. But I can assure you that Dean takes his studies very seriously, and yes, he goes to every lecture and seminar, even ones not required of him." Castiel paused slightly before continuing in a softer tone, "I even believe that he is close completing his final vows."

Mary gasped. '_Could she truly not see it? The pureness that resides in Dean's soul, can she not see it the same as I see it?' _Castiel thought. He frowned in disappointment.

"If you cannot believe in your own flesh in blood, cannot believe that they can walk the path of righteousness without sway, then who will be there when all others fail to do so? I will tell you who will be left," Castiel growled, standing when he saw Dean and Sam coming back to them.

"_Il diavolo."_

Mary didn't speak to Castiel for the rest of the week. If Dean noticed, he didn't comment. In fact, he spent more time with Sam and Castiel than with his mother, and if Castiel hadn't had that conversation with Mary, he was sure he would find their lack of communication disturbing.

Then there were several days where Sam would speak with Dean quietly, handing him slips of paper out of Mary's eyesight. To say Castiel was curious would be an understatement.

He confronted Dean about it, the day before his family was due to depart. Dean looked startled at first before smiling slightly, looking around furtively before gesturing for Castiel to follow him. They returned to Dean's room, and he pulled several folded papers out of his bible, holding them reverently before turning back to Castiel.

"They're letters…" Dean unfolded one, scanning through it once more, smiling further, "letters from my father."

Castiel sat in the chair at the corner by the window, intent on listening to Dean without interrupting.

"Mom, she…she doesn't talk to him anymore. Doesn't really talk about him that much either. She probably told you she was _Ms_. Winchester now, didn't she?" Dean did an excellent mockery of her haughty tone. "She's still married to him, legally you know, but she doesn't think of it that way." Dean sat on his bed, still looking down at the letters, biting his lip before continuing.

"He's in a mental hospital."

Castiel inhaled sharply, but didn't say a word. Dean looked up at him with something akin to gratefulness before continuing.

"Has been since I was sixteen. One day he just started acting strange, said he started seeing…started seeing demons. Well…everyone's a skeptic. I'm sure you have plenty of experience with that, Cas."

Castiel nodded once and Dean swallowed thickly.

"Of course people didn't believe him. Not even his friends. Sammy and I, well, Sammy was at that impressionable age, you know? He believed anything his daddy told him, bless him…" Dean stifled something close to a sob then continued again.

"One day, I came home and everything was quiet. Too quiet. I noticed things out of place, like someone had been looking for something. The cabinets were open, the cross in our kitchen window was on the floor…I guess a lot of things were on the floor that day, but I only remember that cross, just lying there on the linoleum.

I walked upstairs, following these scuff marks on the walls, thinking at the time that mom was going to be pissed. She liked her house to be spotless. But that's when I heard it, the most tortured scream I had ever heard in my life. I ran to my parents' room and threw open the door and…and…"

Dean stopped short, holding his face in his hands, back shaking in silent sobs.

"They had him strapped to a chair. His wrists were fucking bleeding. He was…he was screaming for them to stop, but they wouldn't stop…they wouldn't stop…Mom had fucking Sammy in the corner, had him watch while they did things to our father. I took him from her. I took him right out of that room, told him to forget about it."

The bible in Dean's lap slid to the floor, but Castiel made no move to pick it up, too stunned by what he was hearing to do much of anything.

"I called the police on them. Mom was yelling at me to hang up the phone, that nothing was wrong. That what they were doing was the right thing." Dean spat out those last words and Castiel flinched out of his stupor. He stood and moved to sit next to Dean, putting a supportive arm around his quaking shoulders. Dean leaned against his side, still stammering on, and at this point Castiel believed this part of Dean to be like a poison, and the only thing to do with poison was to get it out. All of it.

"Sammy was screaming and crying into the front of my shirt, but I didn't care, I moved out into the street to wait for the cops. Mom was yelling at us the whole time to get back inside, that this was a family matter. I couldn't even _look_ at her. The cops got there in a few minutes, but those minutes were like a fucking lifetime. Sammy just kept crying and crying till he cried himself hoarse. The paramedics had to wheel dad out, he was in pretty bad shape…I don't know what they did to him, but it changed him. He seemed smaller than before. So breakable."

Castiel buried his face in Dean's short cropped hair, rocking him back and forth gently while breathing in his scent.

"There wasn't anything else I could really do. It was a small town; people were religious to a fault. But I just knew it wasn't _that_. I knew my father wasn't possessed by some demon. He wasn't any different from before. I think he just believed a little more than the other people in that town. My uncle Bobby, he was a cop, and I convinced him to get my dad out of there, get him to a hospital. And that's where things went south…"

Dean chuckled dryly, a harsh, humorless sound that was more like a bark than anything.

"I overestimated him. He got him out of the town alright, but checked him in to a _mental_ hospital. I think at the time Bobby thought he was doing the right thing for him but…Damn it, my father wasn't crazy! He isn't crazy! You can believe in God and believe in the devil. How is it so hard to believe that what my father saw was real? How can they be so pious and yet so ignorant, I can't even-"

Dean finally broke, choking on his words and allowing tears to fall unbidden from his eyes to be soaked up by Castiel's cassock. Castiel could only offer gentle shushing noises and a consistent back rub in response. To be truthful, Castiel didn't know what to think. He didn't know Dean's father, how could he possibly know if he was possessed or just an extremely religious man? Castiel's own faith was getting in the way of supporting his closest friend, and it was the most frustrating thing he had ever experienced.

After a moment of silence punctuated by Dean's harsh breathing Castiel took one of the letters from Dean. "May I?" He asked quietly, and Dean only nodded, leaning fully into Castiel's side. Castiel read the letter, read all of the letters. His father, John he noted, wrote to Dean every week, and sent the letters to Sam's university mailbox to make sure Dean received them. He wrote to both of them, asking how they were, how was school, simple things like that. It was almost painfully normal. But the love, and above all, the clarity in the letters were shockingly evident.

When Castiel had finished reading them all, he didn't know what to think anymore. He folded each letter carefully the way they had been before and slid them back into the bible. Dean's reluctance to completely accept his faith made total sense now, and Castiel couldn't help but sympathize. He knew Dean was the better man. If something like that had happened to Castiel, he knew he wouldn't have pursued religion. Dean was strong. Castiel knew this, and it only made him respect him further.

"It doesn't matter what others believe, including you." Castiel spoke finally. He took Dean's chin in his hand, gently raising it so Dean would look at him. Dean's face was puffy, and his eyes were bloodshot, but thankfully the tears had stopped. "As far as I can tell, your father loves you, deeply and truly, and that's all that should matter, Dean." Castiel placed a gentle kiss on Dean's furrowed forehead.

"That's all that should matter."

* * *

><p>Dean and Castiel said their goodbyes to Sam and Mary the next day, less so to Mary and more to Sam. Dean slipped Sam two letters to mail to their father, one from him, and one from Castiel himself. He wouldn't tell Dean what the letter said, only that it held good tidings.<p>

Castiel couldn't wait till Dean's mother left Italy. In his eyes she was a religious woman, yes, but a horrible wife and mother. And he could only pray that nothing else happened to the Winchesters due to the woman's foolishness.

"Goodbye Sammy, take care." Dean huffed out into Sam's shoulder.

"Same to you, Dean. Don't let me come back here and find you in some kind of trouble." They both laughed at that, Dean promising that no such thing would happen, and that Sam could sleep well at night. Sam took one last look at Castiel and shook his hand firmly.

"Thank you Castiel, for everything. Don't be a stranger."

"And you too, Sam, I will always look forward to seeing you again."

Dean hugged his mother, and again Castiel was beginning to think Dean was some sort of saint to act so tenderly around his mother. Castiel merely nodded when she looked his way, notorious fake smile plastered to his face.

After they left, Dean and Castiel continued to frequent their assigned seminars, but were swiftly losing interest in the subject matter. They were more concerned with spending time together, a sort of mutual healing and learning as Castiel put it. Uriel had since backed off after his first altercation with the younger priest, grudgingly accepting Dean as Castiel's close friend and companion.

Dean also noticed how close they had become, especially after spilling his broken past to Castiel. They spent almost every waking hour together, ate meals together, and only separated at night to sleep in their respective rooms at the villa.

The way they acted around each other changed as well. They weren't shy anymore, Castiel used to demand privacy in the mornings and evenings, especially during his prayers, but now he allowed Dean to sit with him in the evenings, to read or study or simply talk. They talked about many things, many emotionally charged things as well. And soon their entire relationship evolved into something that both men were hard pressed to label.

They weren't strangers anymore, spending almost an entire year together with another warranted at least _some_ level of familiarity. Friends also seemed like a weak term, friend was a word used to describe someone close to you, who knew you rather well but in most cases not as well as Castiel knew Dean and vice versa. What were they if not close friends? Brothers seemed like the wrong relationship as well. When Dean imagined Castiel in Sam's place, he just couldn't see it. Castiel was different. Special. And Dean wasn't entirely sure Castiel knew how important he was to Dean.

So when Castiel brought up the subject one night over dinner, Dean was at a loss for words.

"What is this, Dean…?"

Dean sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, taking in the all inclusive hand gesture Castiel used, a grand sweep of his arm that joined the two at the table and the charged air between them. Was he expecting Castiel to bring it up? Yes. But so soon? No.

Especially not with that face.

The face Dean saw when Castiel spoke with his obstinate brother, when he spoke with Uriel, when he spoke with anyone and expected the conversation to be particularly difficult. Dean didn't want it to be difficult.

"I think you know as well as I do what this is."

"But I _don't_, Dean! I-I've never…"

"You've never felt anything like this before."

Castiel looked up at him, startled, but the answer was in his eyes. A sort of quiet acceptance, which was more than Dean could ever ask of him.

"We-we've spent basically a year together now…This codependency could be mistaken for _anything_-"

"But it's not. You know _exactly_ what this is."

"And you know why it can't be. How...wrong it is. How can we _feel_ this way when everything we know, our very _upbringing_ tells us we shouldn't?"

"We shouldn't, you're right, but that doesn't stop us from feeling the way we do!"

Castiel's eyes were wide, and at one point he had attempted to leave the table but Dean had grabbed his wrist. It was a tight grip, but nonthreatening. Dean sighed, his gaze dropping to Castiel's delicately pale wrist as he ran his thumb over his knuckles. Castiel drew in a shaky breath before relaxing in his seat once again.

"It isn't right…" Castiel whined slightly in the back of his throat at Dean's tone, "but that doesn't mean we can't feel this. There's nothing wrong with having feelings, right?"

"Correct, but-"

"And if God didn't want this to happen, didn't want us to meet he would have made that so."

"Who's to say that God is responsible for this? Who's to say that it wasn't the _devil_ that has corrupted me?"

"No one can corrupt you, Cas. You're perfect…" Dean whispered, raising his other hand to smooth over Castiel's stubble covered and stubbornly set jaw. Castiel let out a deep breath when Dean's hand dropped and he let go of his wrist, "I won't force you, Castiel. If you want me gone, I'll go."

Castiel couldn't stand the way Dean looked in that moment. He looked deflated, pitiful, purely broken. And as he stood, he seemed smaller, shrunken away from his surroundings, un-illuminated as if God Himself had stolen the light from his eyes. The light that Castiel saw the first time he ever saw him. Every fiber in his being told him to stay with this man, to stay because he was clearly needed and yet…

"I think I…need space." Castiel gasped out, bringing his arms around himself, feeling as if the world was crushing him under a layer of ice and the _cold_ would be present for the rest of his days.

For the first time in his life he had experienced love for someone other than his God. True or not, he did not know, but now he knew he had ruined it. Dashed it upon the rocks, and when he saw Dean's shattered expression, those brilliant green eyes lost the last of their light as they shut in pain.

Dean nodded once, moving to the door.

"I'll, uh, I'll go get my things…"

Castiel didn't move from his seat in the empty room, even when the kitchen staff came to clear the table and ask if everything was ok. To tell him that signore Winchester had left and why was that, and would he be back soon? The cook had prepared signore Winchester's favorite desert after all, and it would be a shame if he had to miss it. Castiel dismissed them without an answer, and when they left, when _everyone_ had left, he sobbed quietly to himself in the moonlit room, the shadow of the crucifix in the window covering his shoulder.

* * *

><p><em>Sob. _

_Yeah, that last part was a bitch to write…hope you guys like it so far, second part will be coming soon enough!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Shadowfeet pt.2**

_Hello again! Sorry for taking so long to updateeee….I was on vacation lol._

_Here's part 2~_

* * *

><p>"Hey, mom? I-is Sammy there?...No I just really need to talk to him about...something…"<p>

Dean hovered anxiously in front of the phone booth, glancing around conspicuously while trying to fight back tears. He didn't know why he was calling his brother, honestly, what was he going to tell him?

'_Oh hey, Sammy, by the way…You remember that priest that was with me? Yeah, I kinda fell in love with him and almost corrupted the most religiously pure man I have ever met. So yeah, in a nutshell, I'm fucked.'_

Yeah, he really saw that going well. Sam might've have been close with him, but if he told him within the same conversation that he had somehow found out he was gay, and gay for a _priest_ for that matter…Dean didn't know how Sam would react. He certainly didn't think it would be a positive reaction.

Truth was, he didn't have anyone else to talk to, and he belatedly realized when he heard scuffling of the phone switching hands on the other line that Castiel would be the one he would talk to in a situation like this. That hurt him in more ways than he would care to admit.

"Hey, what's up Dean?"

"Hey Sammy…you got a minute? Well, a lot of minutes?"

"Um…yeah? Dean…what's this about?"

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his sleep deprived face.

"Sammy, I-I've done something bad."

"How bad." Sam instantly jumped on the offensive, his voice sharp in his pre-lawyer way.

"Look, it's not like I killed anyone, you can relax." Dean chuckled uneasily.

Sam sighed on the other end, the sound transmuting into a grainy hiss in Dean's ear.

"Why are you calling me, man? You get some chick knocked up?"

"Okay, would you listen to me Sammy? This is just going to be hard, okay? And I need you to listen to me, all the way to the end. Even if you don't like it, clear?"

"Got it, Dean…" Sam sighed again, and Dean could almost picture his brows furrowing in consternation before, "so what happened?"

"You remember Castiel?"

"Of course I remember Cas, you never stop talking about him."

"I've kinda…I've kinda done something bad to him Sammy." Dean whispered.

"Damn it, Dean, stop beating around the bush! What. Did. You. Do?"

"I fell in _love_ with him, God damn it!" Dean shouted hoarsely, startling his audience of pigeons and caused them to fly off toward the surrounding trees. Sam didn't respond, but Dean could still hear him breathing.

"Damn it Sammy, say something."

"Something."

"Sam!"

"Well, c'mon Dean! What do you expect me to say? _Golly gee, Dean! That's incredible, did y'all do the nasty yet?_"

Sam was lucky Dean understood his particular brand of sarcasm or he would have been screaming into the receiver at that point.

"Besides, what the heck am I supposed to do? Fly out there and hold your hand while you confess your undying love like some kindergartener? No thanks, plane tickets are expensive."

"It kinda already happened."

"No shit…" Sam breathed, and Dean could tell he wasn't being facetious.

"It didn't really…go as I planned."

"Dean, is this why you're calling?"

"No shit, Sherlock! Who else am I supposed to call?" Dean choked a little before continuing, "I have no one else, Sammy…"

"Dean…are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay! I'm peachy, actually! I have no friends now, I've been living with Cas so I gave up my room at the seminary, I barely have any money, and can barely speak passable Italian! How do you think I am?"

The line went silent again, but Dean could hear clicking in the background.

"Sammy what're you doing?"

"I'm buying a ticket for the next flight to Rome. I expect you to be there when I arrive."

"C'mon man, don't do this…"

"I don't have a choice, Dean. You practically just told me you have nowhere else to go. You're like a hobo now, face facts. I'm coming to get you, I'm taking you home."

"No! I'm staying-"

"Dean, don't try and fool me. You know the only reason why you've been going to those classes and actually _enjoying_ them is 'cause Cas was there, am I right?"

Dean paused at that. Was Sam right? It was true in a certain sense. Dean would not accept exorcism and that was the truth, _never_ would. So why was he here? Why did he go to all of those extra classes? He didn't _need_ to learn about the history of exorcism, he didn't _need_ to learn about the origins of Catholicism, and he _certainly_ didn't need to learn about history's greatest popes. And ever since that last fateful conversation with Cas, he hadn't returned to the seminary. The answer was right in front of him the whole time.

It was Cas.

"Sammy…" Dean whined, feeling the bitter sting of tears as they refused to fall.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm coming for you, just hang on okay?"

Dean nodded stupidly before sputtering out a timid reply, barely catching Sam's flight time before replacing the phone.

What was he going to do until then?

* * *

><p>"Cassie? Come on, Cassie open the door." Balthazar pleaded from outside Castiel's ever locked door.<p>

"Go away, please," came the muffled reply.

"I certainly will not, not until you come out here and eat something. At least tell me what's wrong!"

Balthazar heard shuffling and a few thuds before the door was finally opened a fraction of an inch, revealing a single, red rimmed eye and a hint of mussed up hair.

"_I said_ go away, please." Castiel's voice had hitched an octave lower, hoarse from expressing his sorrow to God, or whoever else was supposed to be listening to a half deranged priest.

"Castiel…" Balthazar breathed, stepping back slightly before his face hardened, shouldering his way into the room before the slighter man inside could stop him.

"Stop," he commanded, watching as Castiel flinched where he stood. "Stop this immediately. I will not tolerate such…such _foolishness_ in my home!"

Balthazar grabbed his younger brother's arm, dragging him from the room to the kitchens.

"First we're going to get you something to eat, you haven't left that room in days and I can't imagine you the type to stash away goodies. Then we're going to clean you up, you reek."

Castiel shoved him off, glaring at him in a way Balthazar hadn't dreamt him capable of achieving.

"Don't pretend like you suddenly care for me. You never did. Why now? Do you see this as some…some sort of game? This isn't funny, Balthazar, this is no trick. I am not some sort of hormonal teenager who locks herself in her room after a big fight with her bfff, or whatever they're called…"

Balthazar's eyebrows inched higher and higher during Castiel's tirade, and he couldn't hold back a laugh at his brother's somewhat failed analogy.

"Cassie…that's exactly what you're doing though, aren't you?"

Castiel's glare changed from hateful to quizzical in the blink of an eye, and yet still cautious.

"You got in a little fight with your American boy-toy and you don't know how to handle it." Balthazar stated, rather smugly too, which didn't help Castiel's mood whatsoever.

"Think what you want, Balthazar, but that isn't what happened. And Dean is no 'boy-toy', he's-"

"Oh really? Well, Dean left in a hurry, didn't he? Why else would he storm through the villa like some man possessed before taking all of his belongings, and I mean _all_ of them Cassie, before leaving for good?"

Castiel stopped mid-step.

"All of them?" Castiel whispered.

"Yes. I can't imagine what he's doing now. Most likely blowing all his of his precious American money on some sleazy, bug infested hostel room while he sits and rots."

"That's not true…He has his room at the seminary-"

"Which he _declined_, mind you, to stay in the villa."

Castiel couldn't breathe for a few moments, realizing in full what exactly that meant.

"My God, what have I done…?"

"Hmm, yes. _What_ indeed."

Castiel took off at a sprint for the main gate; ignoring Balthazar's shouts that quickly faded behind him, a clenching feeling in his gut ran unbidden up his spine till it grasped his heart and squeezed mercilessly. The cold that he thought he had left in his room suddenly spilled back down, and Castiel almost imagined seeing his breath fog the air before running into the muggy Italian night.

* * *

><p>Dean didn't like the number of stares he was attracting in the airport's waiting area. Sure, he looked like a normal, unwashed American tourist, but he was sure his face was a sight to see.<p>

He was sure it was all puffy from the tears, scrunched up in uncontrollable bitterness every time his eyes landed on some vacationing couple. Even old married couples pissed him off. They had already spent plenty of time with the person they loved the most. He only had a year. A glorious, amazing year, but a year all the same. Not nearly long enough to satisfy him.

In the midst of all his hateful staring he missed the flight number announced over the PA system, and a few minutes after that a jean clad waist cut off his view of some rather touchy-feely teenagers.

"Hey, grumpy." Dean looked up to see the saddened but warm face of his younger brother.

"You're blocking my view," he growled, not even bothering to return the greeting.

"What view? Two horny kids sucking face? Hardly something I figured you'd be interested in."

"Oh hell yeah, got myself a whole new bucket full of kinks."Dean answered blandly. Sam just hummed in response, content to sit there until Dean felt like moving.

"You look like shit, by the way," Sam finally muttered.

"Considering I haven't taken a shower in days, I think I look like some hot shit, right?"

"Yeah, real hot shit."

They fell silent once more, then Sam couldn't take it anymore and clapped Dean on the back and stood to grab their bags.

"Jeez, Dean! Got enough stuff?" Sam tried to joke.

"That's everything I brought with me to begin with…you remember how much shit mom packed for me."

"Dean…how have you been able to carry all this around?"

"I have my ways."

Either Sam didn't want to reply, or didn't know how to.

-o-

Castiel arrived at the seminary in record time. He didn't know why he ran there, didn't know why he thought Dean would be there, he just did. He especially didn't know why he thought he could just waltz back in without any resistance. He looked like a half-starved lunatic at the moment, which wasn't far from the truth. His cassock was in a state of rumpled disarray, his clerical collar was possibly on the ground somewhere between the villa and the seminary, and his eyes were red. He looked the very definition of a man possessed, and he half hoped no one here took that fact literally.

"F-father? Father Castiel?" Castiel whirled around, startling the two American tourists that had stopped behind him.

"Uh, I'm…yes, how can I help you?"

"Some guy named Winchester paid us to wait for you."

Castiel swore in that moment his heart skipped _several_ beats.

"Winchester? Dean Winchester?"

"Didn't say a first name, but he was a real big guy. Tall, I mean." _Sam?_

"Okay…well, what did he want?"

"Here."

The girl handed him a slip of paper before they left, leaving one extremely confused priest behind. He unfolded the note, struggling to calm down before his heart leapt from his chest.

_Father Castiel,_

_If you're reading this, then you've returned to the seminary, which is good and all, but Dean needs you. He can't go on like this, I've seen him like this only once before and trust me, it didn't turn out pretty. We're staying at the hotel next to the airport for a few weeks, hopefully this note gets to you before we leave. I'm taking Dean home, regardless if you show or not. Deny it all you want, he cares for you. Deeply. And if you can't return even a single ounce of the love he feels for you, then you don't deserve him in the first place, and you're a lesser man than I thought you to be. So please, come see him before we leave. You owe him that at least._

_Best regards,_

_Sam Winchester_

Castiel, despite his protesting body, found himself running once again.

-o-

"What are we still waiting around for, Sammy? I don't think I can stand anymore crap coffee and room service."

"You used to thrive off of this shit, what happened?"

"…Cas happened."

Sam mumbled something incoherently before pacing back and forth by the door.

Dean continued to sit spitefully silent on the dusty mattress, brooding and glaring at anything that sparkled. He hated this, hated needing Castiel like he needed air. He thought the other man felt the same. It was obvious how close they had become, and Dean had felt he needed to say _something_ to the other man. But he hadn't expected it to go so _wrong_. Did he overreact by leaving the villa? Quite possibly. But he didn't want to continue living with the man he confessed to, and was rejected by the way…that would be a whole new level of awkward that Dean simply wasn't ready to face.

"I need some air…" Dean sighed after a short while, pushing his way past his slightly protesting brother, slamming the door behind him. He had practically been on house arrest since his brother came for him, and he was getting stir crazy. Plus he suspected that the heavenly espresso Castiel introduced to him was laced with some form of addictive drug. And right now he could really go for some delicious liquid crack.

On his way out he slammed into some crazy rushed guy and offered a quick, "_scusi_," before trying to trudge past, but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him from going any further.

"Your pronunciation is terrible, as usual."

Dean turned slowly, unable to believe what he was hearing, and time slowed to a grinding halt.

"L-like yours is any better, you sack of shit."

Castiel-_oh God it was really Castiel_-flinched at the harsh language before quirking a small, Castielesque smile. Dean zeroed in on those lips-_had he never noticed how chapped but beautiful they were?_-and the lobby, the people, and the world around him dissolved to a blur.

"I suppose I'll have to get used to that mouth of yours all over again."

Dean could only stop and stare at the disheveled priest before him, who perhaps looked worse off than _he_ did before Sam practically shoved him under the hotel shower's spray, still fully clothed, claiming he smelled like a dead cat.

"Is this real," Dean whispered, watching as Castiel's worn features dropped slightly, "are you really here?"

Castiel nodded, swallowing heavily.

"I-I came to see you…Sam told me you were leaving, so I…"

"Wait, Sam? How did he…?"

"A note from some tourists, I don't know how he knew where I was going to be, but he did."

"He's…a smart kid."

They trailed off into an unfamiliar, awkward silence. They never did awkward before. Castiel eventually became self aware and attempted to smooth out the deep set wrinkles in his cassock. Dean reached forward to help, unused to seeing Castiel without the white clerical collar that completed his usually pristine outfit. Unused to seeing him in such a state period. He took in the dark bags under his eyes, how he could barely see a hint of blue past the redness in them, and how his hair seemed even darker than ever, unwashed. Castiel smelled like sweat, old paper, and…

"Have you been drinking?"

Castiel's face lit up in a furious blush.

"I would hardly describe it as 'drinking' per se, I took a bottle of Balthazar's wine and barely got half way through…"

"I figured you for a lightweight, but man…"

"I'm a _priest_, Dean."

Dean stopped, the half-formed smile on his face dropped instantly.

"Yeah, forgot…"

Castiel ran a hand through his dirty, matted hair, grimacing and pulling his hand back.

"Hey, uh, do you wanna come upstairs with me?"

Castiel snapped his head up in alarm, eyes wide, blush spreading even further. Dean mimicked the reaction.

"Oh! Oh, _God_, no…uh, to borrow the shower, you look like you need one, or a couple. Ha ha…"

"Oh, right. Yes, I would like that…"

The elevator ride was even more unpleasant than their reunion in the lobby. Honestly, if Dean ever imagined them meeting again, this wasn't how he intended it to go down. He imagined some sort of field of flowers, or their eyes meeting through a crowd, bumping into each other years later. Song and dance…not this shit. Not only a few weeks after their…whatever it was.

Split-up.

Definitely not what he imagined. Though now that he knew Sammy played a small role as twisted cupid, he wasn't surprised it turned out like this.

Strange, awkward, and totally not normal.

Then again, since when was falling in love with a male priest _normal_ for Dean Winchester?

The ping when they reached their floor startled them both and they laughed nervously. Dean headed out first and prayed to God that Sam had gone to get food or something. Thankfully, God somehow answered his prayers, he found a note on his bed explaining where Sam had gone.

Dean had about an hour, possibly less.

"Okay, shower's through there, and there should be fresh towels and stuff. My clothes should kinda fit you, the shirts at least. I'll find you something while you're in the shower okay? Use plenty of soap. You smell like a public toilet."

"Hopefully not an American one." Castiel attempted to joke, and was happy that it elicited something close to a smile from Dean.

"No, just an Italian one. Those are smellier."

Castiel chuckled before shutting the door.

'_Wait, were we just…flirting?'_

His smile dropped, and he sullenly started the shower. Seriously, what had he hoped to accomplish by running here like a madman? He still wasn't fully squared with how he felt for Dean. But like a crack in a glass it was there…extremely and painfully obvious. Balthazar's words echoed through his head as he stepped under the scalding spray. He hissed and turned it down, lathering his hair and going over everything his older brother had said.

It was true, they had a fight, sort of, and Castiel didn't know how to react. He had never gotten into such an altercation with someone so close to him before. Balthazar didn't count, Uriel didn't count, not even God Himself. The truth hurt him deeply, and it hit him like a bolt of electricity to his heart.

There hadn't been anyone like Dean before.

He thought, at first, that Dean was just like everyone else. A shining youth, ready to take on a life of faith and needing an experienced guide to aid him. How wrong he was, and belatedly he realized how strange they must have seemed to the rest of the seminarians. They were _always_ together, joined at the hip was the term. It was incredible that no one had confronted them about it, unless Castiel was just being paranoid and it didn't look like…didn't look like _that_.

Dean was special. Just like Dean had said he himself was special.

Castiel folded in on himself and crumpled to the bottom of the shower. He could see the cracks in the sides of the tub, could see the water and the soapy lather as it ran off his head and into the drain. Could finally see what he was to Dean, what Dean was to him, and how foolish he had been in the meantime.

His religion, his _faith_ was unimportant. What Dean said only affirmed his belief.

If God did not want them to meet, did not want _this_ to happen, He would have made it so.

And Castiel smiled, a true smile that hurt his face, and it felt to him like great wings were spreading for the first time in a millennium and shaking off the dust and the rot.

He stood, and in his haste almost slipped in the soap that had collected at the bottom of the tub. He hurriedly scrubbed his body down, rinsing the shampoo from his hair and had shut the water off right when Dean opened the door to the bathroom with a small pile of clothes.

"Uh, hey Cas, here are some-"

"Dean."

The named man stopped in his tracks, freezing like a deer in headlights about to be run down by a huge freaking truck. Dean had been staring at the ground to avoid Castiel's nakedness, and Castiel could see his cheeks burn, see his eyes flick back and forth over the dirty tile flooring, and could see the way his eyes more than lingered in his direction.

Castiel held out his hand and Dean gave him the clothes, a loose fitting shirt and some boxers, as well as a pair of drawstring cotton pants. He shuffled out of the bathroom, too embarrassed or too in control to try anything. Castiel dressed quickly, afraid that his sudden burst of courage, as well as his epiphany, would leave him like the rapidly draining water at his feet.

He stepped out, pleased that Dean was still there, not quite staring but still looking at Castiel. Expectantly, which didn't help his nerves.

He ran a hand through his hair again, was he developing some sort of nervous habit? He realized blurrily that he missed some shampoo in his hair before he felt a chapped pair of lips cover his own. He inhaled sharply, and as he did, he inhaled _Dean_. He inhaled a scent that he could truly say was the younger man's, a faint smell of some name brand cologne, alcohol, freshly washed cotton, fire, damnation and salvation all in one.

Freedom.

He let loose a soft sound in the back of his throat, eyes closing slightly before those lips were gone in an instant. Dean drew back, but he rested his forehead on Castiel's, breathing deeply and evenly as he stared into the other's eyes, as if trying to decipher what intentions Castiel might hold.

"Is this…okay?" Dean ventured softly, coming closer so he was crowding into Castiel's space. It wasn't threatening in any way, and Castiel liked it, he felt warm and secure.

"Yes, it is…Dean, I apologize, I have been foolish, I-"

Dean silenced him with another kiss, this one more firm than the last.

"You were acting in a way that any normal man would have, I was the one who was stupid to believe that you would drop everything and-and do _this_ with me." Dean gestured vaguely with his hand. "You are a man of God. The way you reacted was more than I could have ever imagined. You have a beautiful, kind heart, Castiel…" he blushed, trailing off, clearly out of his field of experience.

It's not as if Castiel was faring any better. His "beautiful, kind heart" was beating at about a mile a minute, he was sure he was sweating in random places he had never thought capable, and he suddenly became all too aware of the shampoo still stuck in his hair.

But still, he placed a well aimed kiss on the side of Dean's open mouth.

"I'm not sure if I can…completely reciprocate _this_," Castiel looked down at Dean's half-hard length that had poked him in his thigh, "for the time being, anyway." He added shyly, looking around at the eggshell white of the cracked hotel walls, anywhere but the man in front of him.

"Anything…anything you want Cas, you just tell me. We can take it slow, or we don't have to do anything at all, I don't care, as long as I'm with you I'll be fine." Dean murmured frantically, burying his face into Castiel's still wet hair, leaning against him desperately as if afraid he would suddenly vanish into thin air.

"Take me with you then."

It was a whisper that barely held the volume of a beat of a butterfly's wings, but Dean heard it all the same.

"Take me back to Kansas with you, I can't stay here…too many memories holding me back." Castiel continued, leaning equally back into Dean, inhaling his scent once more and screwing his eyes shut.

Dean tentatively reached forward and tangled their fingers together, squeezing at random intervals.

"You sure? America is way different than this place. As much as I hate to admit it, half the things people say about it are true."

"As long as you're there. Besides, I at least will arrive able to speak the language."

"Hmm, yeah, I'll have to tie you up in my house to keep all the ladies off your sexy Italian ass."

"That doesn't sound too horrible…" Castiel leaned forward, aiming to score another sweet kiss from his newfound love until they heard the front door click open and they sprang apart.

"Hey, Dean, you back yet?"

After taking a moment to calm down, in more ways than one, he scuffled back into the room.

"Yeah, hey Sammy, you'll never guess who I found wandering around in the lobby." Dean almost smiled at Sam's hopeful little puppy face, seriously, how more obvious could the kid get?

"Hello Sam." Castiel greeted, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his shoulders.

"C-Castiel…" Sam stuttered, looking almost shocked.

"Your note, by the way, was extremely frightening, you might want to consider a career in blackmail rather than in law," Castiel paused, "actually, stay right where you are."

Sam chuckled nervously, and Dean could practically see the cogs grinding away in his brain.

"Relax, Sammy…we're…we're okay." Dean chuckled, glancing back at Castiel, almost afraid that he would somehow vanish and the past few minutes had only been a dream.

"Okay? Okay how…?"

Castiel smiled slightly, looking down at Dean's hand before taking it in his.

"We're _okay_, Sam."

* * *

><p><em>Heeeee...r&amp;r if you want, i'll read and love all of them~ <em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Shadowfeet pt.3**

_Hey guys~ Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, work got a little busy…But here I am with a new chapter of Shadowfeet! Technically this is the last chapter, but I'm gonna add a majorly sappy epilogue later on. Cuz I'm a sap. Yeah. _

* * *

><p>Getting Castiel out of Italy proved to be less difficult than Dean had imagined. He supposed he was so paranoid that something would go wrong, imagined shadowy figures following them around corners, dark glances from total strangers that he mistook for something along the lines of death glares.<p>

Castiel merely smiled at his fears as he folded the remainder of his clothing.

"You've seen too many American movies, Dean."

Castiel had made the decision a few days later to leave the priesthood. Something about being morally obligated, but he didn't want Dean to feel guilty. He still planned on attending regular services when they made it to the US. Castiel's confidence more than covered for Dean's skittishness, and before Dean could really think about it, they were on a plane headed to America.

They had decided that they would go back to Dean's house in Kansas till they got their bearings. Dean knew it was a bad idea, too many things could go wrong, too many things could happen that would surely spell their doom. But again, Castiel's affable nature cooled Dean down enough to make it to the airport.

Before they left, though, Castiel wanted to say his goodbyes to Uriel and Anna. Dean decided to sit that particular meeting out. Uriel never really liked him, and he didn't want to break whatever thin ice had accumulated between them, though when Castiel returned to their hotel room later that day his face was ashen.

"Uriel did not take it as well as I'd hoped."

Dean snorted and Sam looked on in confusion.

"He did not want me to leave the Vatican, especially with you, Dean."

"Of course he wouldn't, why'd you tell him?"

"I couldn't just…leave without telling him. That would be dishonest…"

Dean snorted once again, but with less intensity.

"Well, I guess you owe him _some_ explanation," and after a moment's pause, "he's a good man. He was fond of you, for sure."

"Yes."

"But, I mean, you didn't tell him _why_ exactly…" Sam coughed nervously.

"Of course not," Castiel admonished, though his eyes were sad, "I couldn't do that to him…Not Uriel."

Dean left it at that.

* * *

><p>When they finally stepped out of the airplane onto American soil, Dean was relieved. The whole flight he imagined strange scenarios in his head that somehow warped into little half-truths in his brain. Things like Castiel coming to his wits midflight and demanding to return to the Vatican, Castiel not liking him after all, Castiel vanishing into thin air like in that Jodie Foster flick.<p>

Castiel, of course, did not understand that reference. And besides, he was not a little girl, and Dean was certainly no blond American actress. Dean snorted at Castiel's attempts to rationalize his reference, and soon forgot about his fears.

"So," Castiel began slowly, and already people turned curiously at the sound of his voice and accent, "where are we going to go now, hmm?"

Sam shrugged eloquently. "Honestly, I only planned up to the flight home…"

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his luggage as he saw it come through the turnstile, Castiel doing the same.

"There's nothing we can do but take a cab home."

* * *

><p>They took a cab as far as a motel before the fare became a small fortune. Castiel attempted to muscle his way into paying the bill, but had not anticipated the fact that he had no American money. Dean laughed and threw the bills into the cabby's hands as Castiel stared dejectedly down at his useless euros.<p>

"We will have to find a currency exchange," he declared, still staring at his wallet like it was a puddle of drool on his pillow.

"Good luck with that, should have thought of that at the airport."

Castiel sighed heavily, flopping back onto the cheap motel mattress, which sent motes of dust into the air and he wrinkled his nose.

"I am unused to carrying large sums of money with me. Balthazar was more than generous with his…gifts…" he groused, as if the thought of having more money than he could spend _bothered_ him.

If Dean knew Cas, which he thought he did rather well at that point, it probably did.

"Balthazar was…nice…" Sam replied, thinking back to the older man's outrageous reaction to Castiel moving to America with Dean. He promptly upgraded their tickets to first class and handed his younger brother an impressive stack of bills and a lone credit card with the parting words of, "have fun!"

Castiel smiled, thinking of the same thing, "I will miss him."

"Rich bastard could fly himself over here with his private jet, you won't miss him." Dean chuckled and Castiel looked at him quizzically.

"He doesn't have a jet, he has a yacht."

Sam suppressed a sneeze that sounded way too much like a laugh to Dean, and he couldn't help but smile. For once things were going right for Dean Winchester, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

But there was one potential roadblock that threatened to tear it all down around him.

His mother.

* * *

><p>The next day found them all standing outside a quaint white house on a quaint and quiet street. Castiel fidgeted nervously, looking around. He was unused to such silence, Italy had been a place of sound, of life. This place looked like a cutout of a magazine. Or a black white and green twilight zone. He also didn't like feeling of the eyes of the neighbors boring into the back of his skull. He chanced a look off to his right and saw a pale curtain immediately flash back into place over an immaculately scrubbed window, and he couldn't help the slow smile that crept over his features, thinking of only one word.<p>

_Stepford_.

Yes, even _he_ understood that reference.

Before Dean could even reach forward to put his key in the lock it flew open.

"Dean!"

"Mom?"

"Dean! Why are…why are you home?"

"I-I uh…"

Castiel thanked God for giving Sam Winchester the quick witted mind of a lawyer.

"His session ended early, and Castiel decided to tag along, he's never been to the US before and I thought I could go with them for a few days, if that's okay." Sam smiled toothily, shouldering his way past the blinking, shocked woman. "We only came by here to pick up my things, we're leaving for Dean's place after this."

"I-I don't understand, your session? Why didn't you call? You're not staying? Your session ended early, why? Did something happen? Dean Winchester, you better not have done anything rash or I swear I'll-"

"Ms. Winchester," Castiel interrupted in his quiet way, stepping into the house after a silently grateful Dean, "I wanted to thank you in advance for allowing me into your home, it is quite lovely, I can see why Dean was so homesick."

He smiled his brilliant smile that made Dean weak in the knees, Castiel could really follow up on the lies recently, and Dean couldn't help but be proud in his own way.

"It's nothing, of course…"Mary replied, cowed at the former priest's sunny attitude. Dean knew her well enough, she could not refuse a man she still believed to be of the Church. Which was why Castiel still wore his cassock, to maintain appearances only. And no matter how selfish a cause Castiel thought it to be, Dean still convinced him otherwise.

Sam had bounded up the stairs, returning with several suitcases and overnight bags. Dean knew that Sam had packed those in advance, as if he was ready to leave that house at a moment's notice. Dean didn't know how to feel about that.

Sam was narrating to Castiel about Dean's apartment in the city rather animatedly over their mother's avid protests, and the woman almost slammed the trunk of their rental car down onto the poor man's fingers.

"What is going on here?" she shrieked, her composure finally slipping. She glared at Castiel, and the man retreated a few steps, not liking the look in her eyes. "You," she murmured, raising a shaking finger to point in his face, "you did this to my little boy. You're taking my Sammy away from me…You already hold Dean under your sway and I'm past that, but you will not take my other son, you _demon_!"

Her voice was venomous, as were her words, and Castiel flinched harshly, taken aback by the accusation.

Dean had stopped in his tracks, staring wide eyed at his mother, mouth agape. Sam was in a similar state, not truly comprehending what was happening.

"Mom…" he attempted and she huffed a breath that sounded more like a warning growl than anything. She stepped closer and closer till she ran the Italian into a stop sign.

"I knew from the very start you weren't a priest. What sort of priest would speak so openly of things like the _devil_, and…and judging the path to righteousness. No man can do that, only God!" her tone was bordering on deranged, and Dean was fighting the instinct to throw her to the ground and speed away with his love and his brother in tow.

"You _deceiver_, you think I couldn't see through you? You think I haven't dealt with your kind before?" Castiel inhaled sharply at the obvious reference to her estranged husband, John Winchester.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" Sam shouted, surprising all of them. Dean had come alarmingly close to turning his thoughts into actions and was halted in his tracks.

Sam's face was twisted in anger, confusion, betrayal, and above all sorrow. His fists were clenched at his sides as he went to stand between his mother and the man his brother loved. He pushed Castiel away gently into Dean's waiting arms, trusting Dean to take him away to the car. Castiel was, well, Castiel, shocked once more that a woman of love and devotion could be reduced to such a spiteful thing.

Dean slid into the backseat next to the frozen man, forcing him to lay his head stiffly against his shoulder, shushing his small sounds of distress and smoothing a hand through his disheveled hair. Much like Castiel did for him so long ago.

"How can you do this, mom?" Sam asked incredulously, towering over the nervously fidgeting woman.

"Cas is…Cas is a fucking _saint_ and you call him a demon? A deceiver? I don't know how you do it…" he breathed, running a hand over his face.

"You know, I tried to forget about what you did to dad, what you did to all of us, but I couldn't. I can't. He's been writing to us, you know." Mary's eyes widened. "Yeah, and we've been writing back too, for years. Even called a few times when you were away, especially when I was at college." Sam added triumphantly, garnishing some pleasure from her horrified expression.

"He's our father. We would know if something happened to him, if something changed. Nothing changed, mom, he's still dad. A perfectly sane, normal man locked away in a hospital because you couldn't stand him anymore."

"Listen here, young man, don't take that kind of tone with me!" she hissed quietly, suddenly realizing that they were out in the street attracting far too much attention, not safe and sound in her perfect white house.

"No mom, I'm leaving with Dean…and I-I'm not sure if I'll come back anytime soon."

Her mouth snapped shut and stared at him, too shocked to say a word as her son walked away, got in the waiting car and drove off.

* * *

><p>Castiel liked Dean's apartment. It was simple, clean, and in a loud and lively part of Topeka. He didn't understand how anyone could live in such silence as Mary Winchester's neighborhood. Noise meant life, meant people. Silence was, well, silence. It wasn't Italy, but he could manage.<p>

Sam immediately shoved his way in, throwing his bags down and launching himself onto the couch. Dean shoved him aside and had Castiel sit down as well as he bustled around the apartment, putting away the bags and taking inventory.

"Okay, unless you plan on eating crackers and mustard for dinner we have to go out again." Dean sighed from off somewhere in the apartment. Sam groaned loudly in protest, shoving his head into the arm of the couch.

"Why don't you two lovebirds go out and get something, I'll stay here and hold down the fort."

Castiel blushed, looking up and away from Dean's grin.

"C'mon Cas, we'll have to do some clothes shopping too, you can't wear my clothes forever. Maybe we'll find a currency exchange as well."

Cas grumbled but stumbled his way to Dean's voice, deciding a change of clothes would be pleasant.

Once he was safely changed into a pair of Dean's old jeans and a slightly-too-large shirt, they left the apartment, leaving a sprawled out and snoring Sam behind.

"I like seeing you in my clothes, Cas." Dean said, glancing at him appreciatively. The shorter man smiled, blush spreading further at his next words. "M-maybe I like wearing your clothes, Dean."

Dean almost lost it, almost. He settled for a messy kiss in the elevator before they were forced apart when it stopped to pick up another resident. They shared a secret smile over the head of an extremely short old woman with an equally old Maltese that seemed to enjoy staring at the disheveled Italian man.

Dean snickered when they eventually stumbled out the elevator and onto the street. They were so used to walking everywhere Dean didn't even think about getting the car, and Cas seemed intent on walking as well so he went with it. It was a good excuse to show him the neighborhood anyway.

They spoke little, but it was a comfortable silence, and their hands and arms brushed ever so slightly as they walked. They shared small smiles and looks, perfectly content for once in a long time.

Castiel chose several new outfits and extraneous things he never thought of packing (e.g. toothpaste, tooth brush, underwear of all things…), as well as successfully changing his Euros to relevant green bills. Castiel wouldn't tell Dean how much he had, but judging by the girth of his wallet he knew it was a ludicrous amount.

Food shopping came next, but Castiel was quickly becoming sluggish, dragging his feet in the sweets aisle and packing their cart with nonessentials. Dean of course made sure to stock up on beer and frozen cheeseburgers. He defended them enthusiastically when Castiel glared at him disapprovingly, claiming they were deliciously sinful and shouldn't be allowed to exist, especially with the price of $2.99 for a pack of 10.

Castiel made sure to purchase actual _healthy_ food through his apparent sugar craze, and promised to cook Dean dinner as a thank you, later of course. Right now the instant dinners were calling his name. Dean loaded up on a few prepacked salads for his brother, not looking forward to his classic bitch face if he failed to do so.

They managed to spend less than Dean expected, especially since he was so ravenous at the time, and actually allowed Castiel to cover the bill.

By the time they made their way back to Dean's apartment Castiel felt like a zombie, trudging around with thoughts only on _food, food, food_, and was grateful when Dean handed him an opened can of Spaghetti-os. Castiel wrinkled his nose, smiling at the name but did not complain.

Sam grumbled when Castiel nudged him with a sock covered toe, accepting the salad without question as he turned on the television.

They sat there, the three of them, like a trio of paralyzed hospital patients forced to endure bad TV and bad food. 300+ channels and nothing was on.

* * *

><p>Castiel shuddered awake, startled by some noise in the night, momentarily forgetting where he was hegrunted sleepily in fear at the unfamiliar ceiling. He stiffened when he felt an extremely heavy and hot figure roll onto his side, tossing an arm over his exposed waist. He cautiously looked behind his shoulder and saw the sleeping face of Dean Winchester. He calmed slightly, allowing the last few stressful and rushed days to flood back into his brain.<p>

Castiel had acclimated well to Topeka life, liking the lively but quaint atmosphere it possessed. Sam stayed true to his word, he continued to live with them at Dean's apartment, at least until his new semester at Stanford started, and Castiel was grateful for Sam being there. He was a voice of reason, and health, in the small family, and Castiel couldn't remember how many times Sam talked Dean out of some eating contest, or pie/bake sale or something similarly involving large quantities of food.

Sam slept in the living room area, on the couch, which left Castiel to sleep with Dean…in his room…on his bed…together…

But this was ok. This was what he _wanted_.

He sighed, burrowing back into that strong chest and allowed his body to meld perfectly against his Adonis. He could get used to this he thought when he felt Dean's grip on his lower stomach tighten unconsciously, _most definitely_. He quickly fell back asleep, not too keen on wondering why he slept in the same bed when there was a spare mattress in Dean's storage space.

Those things didn't matter at the moment, only sweet, precious sleep.

* * *

><p>After several months of basic wash, rinse and repeat, punctuated by job-hunting, Castiel finally landed a job at a local Starbucks. Even though he held a specific loathing for American coffee, he took pride in his work. The enormous tips left by blushing middle aged women had nothing to do with his love for the job, not at all. And since there weren't many things Castiel desired to spend money on, the rent for the apartment was more than paid for each month.<p>

Dean kept true to his promise. He never once tried to force himself on the former priest, and Castiel was glad for it. He knew he made the right choice coming to America with the man, and was feeling more comfortable in his new home each passing day. They shared a chaste kiss every once in a while, sometimes deepening it, but Dean would pull away before it became too heated. Now Castiel was the frustrated one. He knew Dean was holding back because he was still uncomfortable with forming a relationship with a man, but Castiel couldn't help but wonder what it was like.

His wonderings were answered for him one morning when Castiel woke up practically on his front; face planted into the side of the pillow and felt hot quick breaths puff against his neck. He felt this almost as soon as he felt his bed partner's obvious morning…_problem_ rut slowly and jerkily across the cleft of his ass. He groaned lowly in surprised pleasure when he felt thick precome smear along his tailbone, searing a slick trail for the throbbing cock as Dean hastened his pace.

'_Please be asleep, please be asleep…' _Castiel whimpered in his head, taking a quick cursory glance behind him. Dean's eyes were closed, screwed tight in unconscious pleasure and his mouth hung open in his sleep. Dean's actions were causing Castiel's loose fitting clothing to slip further out of place and he whimpered aloud, feeling cool air touch his rapidly heating bottom side. His shirt was inching further and further up, and his boxers further down, and asleep-Dean moaned appreciatively at the newly exposed flesh.

This wasn't the first time Dean had become sexually aroused in his sleep. Castiel knew that Dean was fully aware of the times it happened, some mornings he even woke and left the bed to take a shower before Castiel even knew he was up. But this time was different. This time Castiel didn't exactly want Dean to leave, and judging from the man's unconscious movements he wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Castiel heard himself moaning the man's name aloud, he couldn't help himself. What the man was doing in his sleep was wrong, but it felt oh so right to the inexperienced man beneath him. Castiel moaned louder when Dean's cock slid lower, prodding slightly between his cheeks, seeking the heat hidden there. Castiel's hand flew down when he felt the head nudge slightly at his clenched entrance, and he gripped Dean's muscled arm.

"Oh…oh _Dio_…" he breathed, rocking back into the stronger man's embrace, feeling him begin to stir awake.

Dean was definitely awake now, he could tell when his thrusts became more controlled and lazy, but he didn't say a word. His grip tightened as his hand slid further up Castiel's chest, then back down, going further than before to stray just north of where Castiel _really_ needed his hand to be at the moment. His breath intensified and Castiel mewled as he felt wet sloppy kisses trail along his neck and shoulder when Dean's hand _finally_ touched his erection.

"Cas…" he groaned, and Castiel's breath hitched when he felt the rumble of Dean's voice travel straight down to his thickening length. He strangled out a moan when Dean fisted his cock, pumping in time with his slow thrusts.

Castiel was burning, both inside and out, and he was sure what he was murmuring wasn't even English as he writhed on the mattress. Dean grunted and manhandled him onto his back and Castiel gasped in surprise, looking up through half-lidded eyes at Dean's lust darkened face before the man _devoured_ his mouth. His surprised grunt was cut off by Dean's probing tongue, licking and biting into his mouth like the man wanted to consume Castiel whole. Castiel placed his hands on Dean's chest, but wasn't trying to push him away, he simply needed reassurance that this was happening, that it was happening _now_.

Dean pressed his hips against his, and when they rubbed together tentatively Castiel swore he saw explosions in his brain. Beautiful, bright, and loud. He likened it to the ringing of church bells, and he whimpered, bucking up instantly to feel more of that blessed ecstasy. They were silent, always aware of Sam sleeping in the next room with naught but a thin wooden door separating them, which happened to be slightly propped open.

Castiel could hear the soft patter of rain drops on the window, the remainder of a tumultuous summer storm, winding down in the early morning. He smiled slightly when Dean's scruff tickled his neck, groaning when Dean increased their already frantic pace, chasing that phantom pleasure that threatened to burn a hole through Castiel's chest.

"Ah…Dean…_per favore_-" Castiel whined, gripping the back of the man's head, pulling him up to seal their lips once more when he rocked closer and closer to completion. Dean growled, snaking a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and fisted Castiel's length, loosely tugging erratically. Castiel moaned louder, unable to stifle the noise this time and Dean's eyes flashed. His grip tightened and Castiel couldn't handle it. He pressed his body as close as he could to the man above him and released. He released everything he held bottled up before. The pent up emotions, the angst, the tension, the slight regret, the frustration…all of that was instantly crushed under the pressure of this release. Castiel was finally as free as he would ever be, wrapped tight in the arms of the love of his life.

Distantly he felt hot spurts of come land on his stomach but he did little more than whimper in overstimulation when Dean kept stroking, milking him for all he was worth as the man stuttered over the edge into his own climax. He collapsed onto Castiel, knocking his breath away, but it wasn't as if he had enough in him to begin with. They came down from their high, petting each other affectionately but not sexually. All the while Castiel was strangely at ease as he realized this was their first remotely sexual encounter.

"How did you know?" Dean finally spoke, and Castiel made a confused grunt, too tired to speak any more than necessary.

"How did you know to run to the seminary? How did you know to run then? At that time? And why to the _seminary_ of all places?"

Castiel knew Dean meant these questions in a more rhetorical sense, so he remained silent for a while longer.

"How were those people there at that exact moment? They couldn't have waited around the whole time, even _if_ Sammy paid them as much as he said he did…" Dean wrinkled his nose in consternation.

"How did we literally bump into each other at that same moment in the lobby? It makes no sense…Seems almost impossible, you know?" Dean chuckled dryly, and Castiel felt it more than heard.

Castiel sighed softly, placing a gentle kiss to Dean's forehead, "God knew."

Dean's head shot up, incredulous and obviously about to interrupt but Castiel kept going.

"God knew what we needed. We needed _each other_, Dean. And what sort of father would keep such people like us apart? Certainly not God. Not in all the years that I have loved and worshipped Him have I seen an action of His completed in vain. Those events were too wildly coincidental to be simply that, coincidences. He wanted us to be together, Dean, He fought for us when we ourselves fought to keep us apart."

Dean did not speak, but still looked a little wary.

"So what you're saying is…this was some sort of _miracle?_"

Castiel laughed, pushing Dean up and off so he could stand and say, "And isn't that exactly what we needed?"

* * *

><p><em>Oooh a little bit of almost slash in there! Goodness…I'm not really the best at writing it…hopefully your imaginations can make up for what I lack at describing lol. <em>

_Epilogue coming soon~_


End file.
